Tag: Joy

The lies change our memories and our perspectives. Suddenly we aren’t focusing on the positives. Every interaction becomes tainted. And if those lies aren’t exposed, they will follow us through our lives, dragging us down a darkening path.

It started with a question at the doctor’s office: “Do you intend to go back to teaching some day?” A simple question, but it set off a torrent of emotions, many of them negative. Did I still like teaching? Was I any good as a teacher? What about all the mistakes I made as a new teacher?

The next morning, as I was still wrestling with my dark thoughts, I received a message from one of our home school co-op leaders: would I be interested in teaching a Shakespeare class to the high school students next fall.

Now my emotions were really mixed: excitement at the thought of teaching some of my favorite literature (I am that nerd that LOVES Shakespeare!) and fear that I would fail.

And then I got thinking. Why the mixed emotions? As I wrestled in my mind, I realized when I look back on my time as a junior high/high school English teacher, I don’t remember many good parts. I’ve chosen to remember the mistakes–and I made quite a few as a new teacher–and the disappointments. I’ve focused so much on my regrets and feelings of inadequacy as a teacher that I’ve forgotten the students who appreciated me. I’ve forgotten some of the wonderful learning moments we had together. I’ve blocked the happy memories.

I’d forgotten how much fun we had acting out Taming of the Shrew together as a class. (Even our foreign exchange student from Korea got into it!) Some of the wild and funny times in my junior high classes (the highlight of my day). The crazy speech activities. The deep discussions as we tore apart Night and Things Fall Apart. And watching students find books they loved for the first time in their lives!

It wasn’t always long days and mountains of research papers to grade. Or seniors with bad attitudes and angry kids taking out their frustration with life on whatever authority was in the room. Yes there were plenty of days when learning about adverbs or how to write a research paper wasn’t the most exciting thing to do. But there were many wonderful days as we prepared for speech meet, discussed good books, and allowed ourselves to get lost on rabbit trails that were hilarious, but had nothing to do identifying the parts of speech.

I need to go through my school tote and look at the pictures of the edible map from The Great and Terrible Quest, read some of the hilarious essays I secretly copied, and find those memories I lost.

But that is what lies do. They take over and rewrite history. And soon we forget the good times, the positive interactions, and the blessings. This can happen in relationships, at jobs, and in churches.

The lies change our memories and our perspectives. Suddenly we aren’t focusing on the positives. Every interaction becomes tainted. And if those lies aren’t exposed, they will follow us through our lives, dragging us down a darkening path.

That’s how Satan puts us in bondage. When we believe those lies, they become chains that we wear–robbing us of joy and freedom. But it doesn’t have to be that way. We don’t have to live the lies we’ve received. John 8:32 says, “You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

When we put on the belt of truth Paul talks about in Ephesians 6, Satan can’t attack us with lies. We are protected with something far more powerful than any weapons he has in his arsenal. Lies cannot stand up to truth anymore than darkness can last when light appears.

But we have to choose to listen to the truth and believe the truth–and that is really hard (at least for me!). I hear the truth and tend to say, “But, but, but. . . .” It’s hard to accept the truths that I am loved, I am not a failure, I am who God made me to be. It’s easier to believe the lies that I failed, and I messed up, and I failed again. But those are lies. They are wrong. And they do not bring the joy God wants us to have. So I am striving to banish the lies and accept God’s joy-filling truth in my life–which means I have some major rethinking to do!

To go back to the question at the doctor’s office. . . . Will I go back to teaching high school English full-time at some point? I don’t know. I have other dreams I’d like to pursue, too. I don’t know what the future may hold. But in the meantime, I’m going to enjoy the teaching opportunities that come my way, because I do love teaching, whether it’s teaching my kids, teaching at church, or teaching a class at the home school co-op. Will I make mistakes? Yes, I will. I am human. Will I sometimes wish I’d spent more time preparing for a lesson or found a different way to make it interesting? Absolutely! But I’m going to let go of the lies I’ve been believing and choose to accept the truth that God made me to be a teacher. He is the one who gave me that passion. He does not make any mistakes in His creation. And I am going to use the passion and ability He gave me wherever I can to glorify Him and help others. I hope you can let go of any lies you’ve believed and do the same!

And that is the wonder of hospitality. It doesn’t matter whether you serve roast turkey or pizza. It doesn’t make a difference if you use china or paper plates. People are starved for meaningful relationships–for communication that goes deeper than texts and Facebook and a “How are you,” “I’m fine” exchange on Sunday morning.

One of the greatest blessings in my life is sharing our home with others. Sharing a meal, a conversation, or just some dessert, or a walk in the park. No matter how we do it, hospitality is a blessing–one I’ve learned to love sharing with others.

But I didn’t always think of it as a blessing.

Initially it was scary. I felt vulnerable. What would I say? What would we do? What would they think of our home, the food, the conversation. What if they were bored! I made excuses. I put it off. I even made my husband make the invitation! Hospitality terrified me.

(I’m shy. I really am. Okay, maybe I’m just insecure!)

But we kept doing it . . . and doing it . . . and doing it.

And then I realized something. And it was revolutionary!

I hate parties. I’m horrible at small talk. I get that horrible pit-in-my-stomach feeling in large social situations. But in my home it is different. It is smaller, more intimate, more personal. I can relax. I’m okay in small groups. (In fact, I prefer them.) In the right setting, small talk gives way to something deeper–true, meaningful communication. And that is what my soul craves.

Yes, I have to make it through the first few minutes of pleasantries. But my husband is there. He is the master of small talk. Of asking questions. Of making others feel at ease and important. I’m so grateful for him.

I can tag along. Gradually I start to relax. The conversation becomes deeper. The fellowship more meaningful. And instead of feeling drained, I find myself being filled.

And that is the wonder of hospitality. It doesn’t matter whether you serve roast turkey or pizza. It doesn’t make a difference if you use china or paper plates. People are starved formeaningful relationships–for communication that goes deeper than texts and Facebook and a “How are you,” “I’m fine” exchange on Sunday morning.

It doesn’t even matter if my house is clean. (I’m still working on letting that truth sink in; it may take a while!) When I open up my home, I’m opening up myself. I’m showing someone s/he is important to me. And everyone wants to feel valued.

Perhaps that is why Peter mentions hospitality in connection with brotherly love:

“Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins.

Show hospitality to one another without grumbling.

As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another” (I Peter 4:8-10a).

Hospitality is an act of love. Love is an action, remember? It grows as I act on it. And love is serving. As I serve, I show I care. As I care, I learn to love.

“So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.”

(Stay tuned. Next week, I’ll talk about some simple ways to show hospitality you can implement no matter how crazy your life or home is at present.)

“Put to death therefore what is earthly in you . . . covetousness, which is idolatry.” Colossians 3:5

I am familiar with images of idols–be they Hindu, Egyptian, Greek, or Roman.

I am also familiar with less traditional idols. The idols that are talked about in Sunday sermons–sports, celebrities, money, fame–anything that becomes more important than God. A baby, a spouse, a beautiful home, a much-desired job promotion. Or, for me, a library full of books. A place to lose myself for a few minutes; to escape from life.

But though all of those things can be idols, none of those are what Paul is referring to in Colossians 3:5 when he talks about idolatry.

Of course I know coveting is wrong. After all, it is the 10th commandment: “Thou shalt not covet.” But recognizing coveting as idolatry–a substitute for God–makes me view it differently.

It isn’t about greed, or about me becoming dissatisfied or discontent with what God has given me.

It isn’t about me damaging my relationship with someone because I covet what she has.

It is about God.

It is about damaging my relationship with Him–devaluing who He is.

It is me saying, “He isn’t enough.” He, who gave EVERYTHING for me, is not enough.

I have to let that sink in for a while.

He, who gave everything for me, is not enough.

No wonder Paul says I need to put it to death. Covetousness is a relationship killer. If I want a vibrant, joyful relationship with God, I have no choice but to choose to be content with what He’s given me. I have no other alternative than to kill it. And kill it again. And ask God to help me, because I can’t kill it on my own. Because I choose Him and fullness of joy.

What is this thing I seek so passionately? Is it something that is found, like a sea shell? One moment I’m joyless; the next moment my life is flooded?

Or is it more like love–creeping up on one, until “I was in the middle of it before I knew that I had begun” (Pride and Prejudice chapter 60)?

Or perhaps it is a journey. A path one follows. A life direction. Choices. Habits. Thoughts.

But what choices? What thoughts? What habits?

If life is path, what path do I follow? Success? Money? Prestige? Do those paths lead to joy?

Or is there another path–narrow, deserted, and hard–less appealing than the others. The path to life.

“You will show me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy.”

Joy. An “Intense and ecstatic or exultant happiness” (The American Heritage Dictionary). Happiness taken to a whole new level. Ecstatic. God has promised that kind of happiness when I seek His presence.

He doesn’t promise it will be easy. There are no guarantees of success, or fame, or money. In fact, it may be downright hard!

But when I seek his presence–through prayer, worship, or meditating on His Word–I will find “fullness of joy.” It’s a promise. Joy will come!

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About Me

I am a Christian, a wife, a home school mom, and a pastor's wife. I struggle with chronic health issues. And I am absolutely nothing apart from the grace of God. My greatest desire is to find "fullness of joy" through my relationship with Jesus Christ.